


Come And Get Your Love

by maya_lev



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Developing Relationship, M/M, Minor Original Character(s), Mutual Pining, Past Peter/Gamora, Slavery, Slow Burn, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-25
Updated: 2018-09-29
Packaged: 2019-05-13 17:45:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14753438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maya_lev/pseuds/maya_lev
Summary: (Called Rescue Mission on my Tumblr @maya-lev)The Guardians follow a distress signal and find themselves in a tight spot.





	1. Chapter 1

Peter Quill was in trouble.

The kind of trouble that makes him want to use the Time Stone, meet his momma and tell her that she should never agree to have babies with a guy named Jason. Because that would ultimately lead to this day.

The Guardians had received a distress signal from a planet named Achernon from the dark end of the quadrant. But the signal had been in a Gorgei dialect. What thin file they had on the Achernonians revealed them to be tall purple creatures, with a taste for discipline. Nothing promising there. For all they knew, Achernonians could have been giant octopuses with an appetite for celestial flesh. They landed on the yellow planet in a rush, like the heroes they were - with no plan or preparation.

Thankfully, the Achernonians were humanoid. But they turned out to be slave traders, which wasn’t much of a bargain.

Peter sighed and yanked his chain, again.

Rocket who was in the same cell as he yawned and settled himself comfortably on the floor. “Stop being so noisy, fucktard. I’m tryna’ sleep here.”

Peter kicked him in the shin.

“Ow!” said Rocket, his spit flying everywhere,”What was that for Mr. Pissypants?”

“Aren’t you going to think of ways to get out of here, you rodent?” said Peter pulling against his chains so that he could knock some sense into the raccoon.

“Well, let me think,” Rocket made a show of thinking but tapping on his chin, “We could blast the walls off and escape except they seized all our A-grade explosives, we could run Milano through these walls except our ship was shot down. We could try hand-to-hand except the entire crew is chained and the captain of the crew doesn’t even know how to land a kick!”

“I _do_ know how to kick,” said Peter, kicking Rocket again. “There,” he said, triumphantly.

“I’m gonna bury a Skrull grenade up your ass when I get off these chains,” yawned Rocket again, shifting away from Peter’s reach and settling down for a nap.

“Aren’t you worried in the slightest about what’s going to happen?”

“You said it yourself,” said Rocket, looking at his nails casually, “I’m a rodent. What use could they possibly have for me? The moment they realize they can’t profit from me, I’ll be out of here. You on the other hand - get ready to get your ass fucked by some rich, old pervert.”

“Right,” said Peter, rolling his eyes. “The only one who has to worry about that is probably Gamora.”

“Trust me,” said Rocket rolling around and turning his back to Peter, “You would make a far easier butt-slave than Gamora. Now zip. I need to get my beauty sleep.”

Peter awoke with a start. For a confused second, he thought he was lying on his bunk and tried to step off it, only to realize he had fallen asleep on the floor. Things came rushing to him then, and he cast an irritated glare at Rocket. The raccoon who was snoring loud in his sleep jerked awake when the gates to their cell rattled unpleasantly.

“It wasn’t me! I didn’t do anything!” yelled Rocket, pointing at Peter. “It was him!”

Peter wanted to slap him for being such a douche, but the figure looming over the cell entrance caught his attention. They hadn’t been kidding when they had said the creatures were tall. The purple figure covered in a metal armor, dead black eyes, decaying sharp teeth, carrying a pike that was eight feet tall, spikes on its arm and a tail that was as tall it was, looked like a creature something would find on a painting of hell.  

The ugly being stretched its spike and pointed at Rocket. “If you move, you will die.”

Rocket gulped visibly and his little legs trembled. Peter scoffed. So much for his bravado.

The guard opened the cell door. Peter flinched as the being neared him. He had gotten a taste of their strength when they had been captured, but it still didn’t stop him from trying to land a punch. The being easily bent his arm backward and pushed his face against the wall. This close to the creature, the smell of rot and sulfur was overwhelming and made him dizzy. Something was thrust against his face. Peter struggled at first but relaxed when he realized that it was an oxygen mask. His chain was detached from the wall and was pulled away.

“Hey, where are you taking him asswipe?” mouthed of Rocket, baring his teeth.

The ugly being turned its ominous eyes on the raccoon and simply said, “To the market, of course.”

Peter felt his color drain. He needed his blasters.

*

The market was more of a dungeon than a market. It was dark, damp and if not for the mask on Peter it would have reeked of sulfur. There was a huge assortment of humanoid creatures in varying states of nakedness being hauled around the maze-like rooms. Peter was extremely thankful for his clothes that had been left untouched, but he wished he had held on to at least one of his grenades. A distraction and he could be out of here. But of course, his peevish mind kindly reminded him, they had taken away his boots, too.

Peter looked out for any sign of a green-skinned, red-haired woman, but he found no luck there. Instead, he found Drax sitting in a high chair in one of the bigger dungeons, drinking off of a crystal cup and being attended by small, pink being with fluttery wings and no tail. Peter let out of a half-relieved, half-strangled laugh. The galaxy favored him. Drax had somehow won the favor of the Achernonians. Peter strongly suspected it had something to do with the color of his skin. What a bunch of racist fuckers, thought Peter.

“Drax,” yelled Peter, pulling away from the purple monster and waved as best as he could with his chained arm, “It’s me, Quill! Here! Right here, Drax!”

His captor stopped and turned its massive body, and held its sharp spike to his heart, “Quiet, monkey! Or you will find yourself accidentally dead,” it said. Peter would have spat on its face but he was too busy looking at his friend. Drax didn’t give him so much as a glance. Maybe, he couldn’t hear him through the air mask. But before he could try anything more the creature pulled him ahead. He was led through a sea of indistinguishable Achernonian faces, through a series of caves, steps, and badly lit paths. They came to stop at a clearing. A particularly dark purple colored creature sat on a huge chair made out of yellow crystals. A few of the pink creatures Peter had seen earlier were swarming around this one, too. A plan started forming in his mind. Peter would climb up the crystal chair, get a piece of that crystal, stab the leader - and then, his plan flew right off his mind and committed suicide. For there stood, the last person Peter thought he would find here.

Thor Odinson, in all his glory, the unnecessary mass of muscles and billowing red cape stood facing the purple leader. What was worse, he didn’t seem like he had been taken captive. His faithful Stormbreaker was by his side, slung loosely from his hip. He put two and two together, and his conclusions didn’t please him.

“You!” said Peter, accusingly, “You are the one who’s buying me?” He felt humiliated.

Thor turned, and Peter remembered why he hated the God so much. He looked as perfect as ever. Tall, sinful biceps, flowing golden locks, flat stomach, a shoulder that looked like it could carry a mountain, and those thighs - yes, Peter hated him. Even more so when Thor gave him a hearty smile that reached his stupidly electric blue eyes.

“Quill!” roared Thor and was before him in an instant. If Peter’s hand hadn’t been tied he would have definitely pushed Thor when he tried to engulf him in a hug. As it were, face burning, he let himself be embraced in the most awkward hug in the history of the Galaxy. He felt small and breakable in those arms that felt like steel.

“Let go of me!”, he said with as much dignity as he could muster. But he needn’t have worried. Peter’s captor put his spike in between them. Thor frowned and cast the Achernonian guard a challenging look. Then seemingly changed his mind, shrugged, patted Peter on the shoulder and walked away.  

“Oh Rolharl the noblest!” said Thor, addressing the creature on the throne. The pink creatures flying around the monster became still and cast Thor a curious look. “The protector of the Unakalhai and peace-keeper of the Achernonians, I find myself surprised that you would heed to trivial matters such as this.”

Rolharl, the purple leader, the ugliest of the lot, titled his head and gave Thor a curious look. “What surprises me,” said he, “is why would a God such as yourself, get involved in such trivial matters. Don’t you have worlds to save and apocalypses to stop? Why get involved in a small business decision in some corner of a civilization you haven’t even deigned fit to visit in the last three hundred years?”

Thor raised his hands as if to appease the creature. “I’m not here to interfere. I’m here to make a business deal just like anybody else.”

“Deal, what deal?”, interrupted Peter, “You are dangerously delusional if you think you can buy me off some deal, asshole.” He did not need Thor saving his ass.

Thor and Rolharl both glared at him. Even the pink pests glared at him. Peter shut up when the spike he was so very familiar with now, was shoved under his throat.

“I find myself in a need of a few slaves. To restore the Asgardian palace. As you might be aware, it has met with tremendous damage in the past year and requires a few skilled hands.”

“I don’t care to what purpose you dispose your slaves. But this creature speaks too much,” said Rolharl, contemplatively, “Are you sure this is the one you want?”

Thor turned to give Peter a look that looked a little guilty. Peter glared at him with all his might.

“Yes,” said Thor, turning back, “But it would please me to buy all of the Morons and the rabbit.”

“What do you offer in return?”

Thor stopped to consider for a moment. It occurred to Peter, that the God might have nothing to offer except his wrath. This thought cheered up Peter, considerably. If Thor’s plan was to break them out, he didn’t mind. Not even if it meant that Thor would goad him for saving his ass. It was only the thought of being bought for a price that infuriated him.

“I have five Asgardian gold rings,” said Thor, producing the said coins and offering it to Rolharl. “It’s worth a _lot_ ,” he explained.

“You can only buy one for that.”

Peter wanted to punch Thor so bad. He told himself he would get his chance.

*

He got his chance the moment his chains were unlocked and he escorted into the Asgardian vessel that awaited him outside the yellow city. Thor stood with a grin on his face and his hands spread in a welcome gesture.

Peter punched him in the gut or at least tried to. His hand met metal over metal and stung like a motherfucker. Peter yowled.

Thor caught his hand. “Why are you hurting yourself, my friend?” said Thor, genuinely curious. “Come in, let’s see if I can find you something cold to soothe the pain.”

“What the hell just happened?” demanded Peter trudging behind Thor. He took off his air mask as soon as the vessel’s door closed behind him. He fleetingly wondered why Thor hadn’t required a mask. Or Drax, for that matter. “Is this some kind of ploy to humiliate me and my crew?”

Thor looked from where he was rummaging through a freezer and gave him a confused look. “Humiliate you?”

“Yeah, you could have just used your stupid hammer or whatever you call it and blasted this whole city into oblivion. But instead, you decided to buy me. I’ll have you know I’m a lot more worth than five coins, you .”

“Here,” said Thor thrusting a packet of ice cubes. He sported a deep frown, but his voice was gentle when he said, “I cannot blast off a city into oblivion.”

“Of course, you can’t,” said Peter, crossing his hands, “Who sent you? S.H.I.E.L.D? They should have sent Banner instead. The only thing you accomplished by coming here is to piss me off.”

Thor turned and got into Peter’s space faster than a blink. Deep blue eyes, as old as a civilization looked down at him, and there was a warning in those eyes. “I sent myself,” said Thor slowly. “And I misspoke. It is not that I cannot, but I shall not. There are hundreds of creatures that live on this planet - some innocent and some not so very. Acharenonians maintain their peace with the rest of the world, so long as we do not interfere with their economic decisions.”

Thor’s warm breath fell on Peter, and he could smell him now - damp pine trees and honey mead. There was a current in the air, that Peter suspected had something to do with the fact that this man could create electricity at will. But he chose to ignore all those for the moment.

“By economic decision, you mean taking into their hands the will of thousands of sentient creatures,” said Peter, snidely, lifting his face up in a challenge. Too close, thought Peter, but he didn’t want to back down.

Thor gazed at him with a peculiar expression on his face that  Peter could not read. Peter found it extremely disturbing. Then as abruptly as that had come, Thor smirked and patted his arm and moved away.

“You are right, Lord of Stars,” said Thor, loftily, punching in something in the helm console by the front. “But you will find that I have learned my lessons when it comes to starting a war. Now, do you want to save your friends or not?”

Peter glared at the God’s back as he removed his hammer and deposited it unceremoniously between the two chairs to the front. He then settled himself and warmed up the thrusters. “Well?” said Thor, expectantly.

Peter glared some more and then huffed. “What’s your plan?”

 

*

It was a simple plan really: call Thor's half-mad brother Loki. So, forgive him if he wasn't exactly pleased with the plan.

“I can't believe after all that he put you through, you still trust that little shit.”

Thor got a fond smile on his face that made Peter extremely irritated. “Well, he is my brother. I know him like I know myself.”

“Uh-uh,” said Peter, dramatically rolling his eyes. Who cared if the brothers were close? Not him. “Why can't you just open up that rainbow of yours and swish your megalomaniac brother here, so we can get my crew and get on with our lives?”

“Rainbow?” said Thor, quizzically, “Oh! Bifrost!  Bifrost only connects the nine realms. Achernon is a very remote colony that the Allfathers before me did not think fit to conquer. Which makes me wonder, what brought you so far from home?”

Peter frowned. He had forgotten all about the reason they had arrived at Achernon in the first place. “We received a distress call, “ he said,

 

“From a Gorgei vessel. Now that I think about it, it could have been any of those thousands that got trapped in the planet before us. Not much of a Guardian are we? Went to rescue and needed rescuing ourselves?”

Thor gave him a long look, but Peter was surprised to note that there was a hint of admiration in them. Thor then turned away looking pensive. “It is rather strange,” he murmured.

“What is?”

“You cannot receive signals through the Acheronian skies,” said Thor, “It is what protects the wretched system they have.”

“But you found us,” said Peter, turning to look at Thor, confused. “You must have picked up our signal.”

“That is different,” said Thor, stiffening, as if the question physically pained him.

“How is it different?”, asked Peter, suspicious.

Before Thor could answer him though, the vessel which was mid-jump rattled terribly. Peter held on to his chair, but it helped very little. He was going to fall off his chair when all of a sudden the shaking stopped with a thud.

“Well, well, well,” came a familiar voice from him, “Look who we have here. My brother’s little pet.”

Peter scowled and flipped him the bird, without turning.

“Loki!” said Thor, beaming and getting of his chair to greet his brother. “I was worried we had to travel all the way to Asgard to get you.”

“I got your message. Didn’t feel like waiting,” said Loki. He sauntered to were Peter sat looking at the whizzing stars. “So how does it feel to be owned by Thor?” said he, smirking down at him.

Peter felt his temperature rise, but Thor got between them hastily, fumbled and tried to push Loki away from Peter.  “Enough with your jests, Loki.” Peter noticed Thor’s neck turning an interesting shade of red. “The Guardians need your help.”

“Pray tell me, brother, how do I benefit from this cause?”

“How does not beating up your evil ass and throwing you in eternal prison sound?” said Peter.

“He _speaks_ ,” exclaimed Loki, leering. “And he speaks for you, dear brother!”

“He doesn’t,” said Thor giving Peter a nervous look. Peter couldn’t blame him. He probably looked like a ticking bomb. “You shall have access to treasure chamber for a night, as you had requested.”

“That is hardly a good bargain,” said Loki snidely, folding his hands.

“Loki,” sighed Thor, “You know very well that after the last stunt you pulled- ”

“Oh, enough with your whining,” said Loki, cutting off Thor, “I will do it. I cannot expect your tiny little brains to come up with a plan that does not get everybody killed or severely dismembered.”

“I need my blasters, Thor,” said Peter, turning around and giving Loki a nasty look, “My fingers are itching to drive holes into this douchebag.”

Loki raised an eyebrow but otherwise chose to ignore him. He flourished his hands and drew up a map of the dungeons with what looked like green lights. Thor gave Peter an apologetic smile and turned his chair around and settled into it. Peter, although, not entirely happy with the way things were turning out, didn’t have much of a choice.

Curiosity got the best of him as he watched Loki zoom into the lights like one would do with an aerial scanner. Peter realized with a little awe that Loki was getting a live feed of the Achernonian dungeons. The projection showed the tiny form of Rocket, who was sound asleep, then zipped past darkness to pause at a picture of Drax draped in a flowy shawl, and finally, Peter got a glimpse of Gamora. He stood up without realizing to get a closer look.

Loki saw him approaching “Well if it isn’t the princess who has stolen your heart.” Peter ignored him. Thor behind him cleared his throat loudly. Peter ignored him, too. Gamora was awake and attentive. That was good. She also looked pissed - which was understandable. Thankfully, she showed no visible sign of distress other than that, and Peter sighed in relief. Across from Gamora, sat Mantis cross-legged and seemingly in a trance.

“What about Groot?” said Peter, “Can you find him?”

“Hmm,” said Loki, frowning in concentration, scrolling and zooming with quick snaps of his lithe fingers. “Strange. I can’t seem to find him. This is not possible. Give me a minute.”

“Achernon was once under the Jotunheim’s reign,” said Thor, helpfully, while Loki searched “Though the Achernonians do not acknowledge Jotunheim’s claim over them anymore, they are still under their thrall in ways that their simple minds cannot understand.”

“Of course they are,” said Peter, “and of course, your brother would be the lord of every scumbag civilization in this world.”

“Can’t deny the truth of it,” said Loki, smiling tightly, “which is why Earth would have been an apt conquest to my collection. In any case, your tree is not on that planet.”

Peter scoffed, “You mean your magic is not good enough to find him.”

“No,” said Loki, frowning, “I mean precisely what I said. He is not on that planet.”

*

“So let me get this right,” said Peter, hands on hips, “Our wizard here is going to dress us up like Achernonian guards, we sneak in, use magic to unlock the cells and sneak out. This is your plan?”

“You have a better plan?” said Loki, one eyebrow cocked.

“How about this, why don’t you just pay them off with more coins?” said Peter, sardonically. “Thunderboy here didn’t have too much trouble buying me off their hands.”

Thor looked sheepish but didn’t answer. His brother helped him out by saying, “The act of buying or owning slaves is a punishable offense under the Asgardian laws. Not to mention, dishonorable. “

Peter whistled looking between an embarrassed Thor and a snickering Loki. “So you just couldn’t help yourself from buying me, huh?”, he said sarcastically, directing his ire at Thor.

Again, Thor gave no reply. His ears turned red and he looked everywhere but at Peter. It got a little awkward. “Well, I hope your punishment stings well then,” said Peter, hiding his own sudden embarrassment. There was something about the God which bothered him a lot, but he couldn’t put a finger on what it was.

“Oh, it will,” said Loki, grinning from ear to ear.

*

Because they couldn’t land their ship on Achernon soil without being recognized, Loki used his magic to get himself to the city, while Peter was forced to hitch a ride with the other God. Loki had already zipped away when Thor approached him hesitantly. Peter hated this part of the plan, but he didn’t have a choice.

Thor looked pretty unsure when he tried to put a hand around his shoulder. He stopped midway, floundered, gave Peter an awkward apologetic smile, then slowly, almost as if he was afraid to do so,  encircled his waist. Peter felt the skin were Thor’s hand rested on the small of his back burn like hot coals were pressed against it. Blood rushed to his face, as Peter looked up at Thor. Under his palm, he felt Thor’s heartbeat escalate to a mad rush.

“Put your - put your hand around my neck,” said Thor, his voice thicker than usual. Peter glared at him because doing anything else would be inappropriate at that point. He tried to ignore his own loud heart and the scent of acorns and pinewood and rain that overwhelmed his senses. “Like so,” said Thor, grabbing Peter’s hand, and carefully guiding it over his shoulder. Up close then, Peter could see a storm brewing in those deep blue eyes that were looking down at him.

There was definitely electricity coursing through Peter. He could see little sparks from the corner of his eyes. But before he could dwell on it too much, Thor spun his hammer and whisked them away.

*

Sneaking inside to find Rocket and breaking away into the cell was the easy part. Getting him to wake up without clueing in on the guards was proving to be difficult.

“I can’t believe this,” hissed Peter, “He is like the Sleeping Ugly!”

“That he might be,” Loki said amused, “But Achernon's air might have something to do with his odd behavior, too.”  

“The rabbit goes with me,” proclaimed Thor. He picked up Rocket with seemingly no effort and threw him over his shoulders like he were a rucksack. Ouch, thought Peter, Rocket was going to hurt in several places when he woke up.

The party headed to find Gamora’s cell. They met with no incidence. Achernonian guards carrying a lifeless form of a raccoon was not an unusual sight in these parts, apparently. They would have wasted a lot of time searching for Gamora and Mantis, but fortunately, Loki remembered the path in the maze-like arrangement of the prison.

They found Gamora in the same attentive position as they had seen in Loki’s projection. Peter noted that she looked more dehydrated in person, but otherwise seemed to be okay. He sighed. Loki unlocked the door. Gamora jumped to her feet and crossed her arms in an offensive stance.  Mantis mimicked her.

“It's me guys,” said Peter, urgently. “Peter.”

Gamora’s hands were still held up, when she barked,  “What was the last song we listened together?”

Peter felt Thor move behind him. He could feel it only because Thor made a show of it by moving closer and breathing against his neck. It made Peter conscious for reasons he could not understand.  He thanked the Gods they were in their purple suits.

“Don’t bring me down, by ELO, 1979,” said Peter, easily.

Gamora strode forward to pull him into a hug, which was a little awkward because she rested her head on his elongated pelvic bone. Thor cleared his throat loudly and Loki snickered. Mantis looked confused.

“Are they our friends?” said Mantis, pointing at Thor and Loki.

Peter nodded his head. “Thor and Loki,” he said.

“Hi Thor!” said Mantis, happily and then, a little unsurely, “Hi Loki?”

Loki ignored her and made quick work, transforming Gamora and Mantis into pink pixies. The Achernonian men were all purple, and the ladies - the pink, fluttery beings Peter had seen earlier. The creator of this world was a sexist clusterfuck.  

They decided to split after that. Gamora and Mantis went to find Drax. Loki went to retrieve Milano. Although Peter was not very happy with the thought of that evil bastard getting his hands on his beloved ship, he had no choice. His main priority was to find Groot.

He had been pushing off any thoughts of Groot so far and concentrating on the parts of the plan he had control over. But now that that part was over, the thought of his little friend being in danger seeped through his mind unbidden and it made his stomach churn. He fought it hard to stop his imagination from running wild. He couldn't live with himself if he lost Groot.

Thor stopped Peter in his tracks, with one spiked hand on his shoulder. “Loki sees all here, Starlord,” he said. It was strange to reconcile in Peter’s mind that this ugly creature was actually Thor. The look of earnestness in the demonic face looked unnerving. “Groot can't be on this planet if Loki didn't see him. We are wasting our time.”

“So what do you suggest,” snapped Peter, poking a finger at the purple creature before him, “I leave my friend to die here?”

“No,” said Thor, squeezing his shoulder, “I’m saying we are on the wrong planet.”

“What do you mean?” said Peter, confused.

“When when was the last time you saw your friend?” asked Thor.

Peter froze. When had he seen him last? Groot had been busy playing in the back with the PS5 that Stark had given him for his last birthday. Milano had been shot down, and unable to control the fall, the crew had decided to abandon ship. Peter had put on his mask and had breached the atmosphere with his trusty boots on. His blasters and grenades were out, but they had been severely outnumbered by the purple-skinned monsters, so they had to eventually surrender. It only then dawned on Peter that he had assumed that Groot would have taken one of the two escape pods they had with the rest of the crew.

Thor was still waiting for an answer. “I don't know of if he got on the planet,” admitted Peter, panic rising. “I don't know if he crashed along with Milano or landed with the pod or jumped. I'm such a shitty captain. I was too busy racing down for a fight that I just assumed Groot got out with us. I can't believe I let him out of my sight and -”

“Peter Quill,” said Thor, breaking through Peter's thoughts, “You are not a shitty captain, and I know where Groot is.”

Thor extended his arm outward to Peter, and his disguise fell away, and once again, he was the mighty God of Thunder. Peter felt his purple skin turn white and his vantage dropped along with his height. It was impossible for Peter to put his hand on Thor’s shoulder with Rocket slung over his back. So it fell on Thor to balance them, with Peters hands uselessly pressed against his steel like chest. Thor hauled them up like it was the easiest thing he had ever done.

*

Thor transported them to a green land. Green not because of vegetation, but because of rock formations that glowed an eerie green. Up in the sky, Peter noticed a giant yellow planet looming. They were had a landed on a neighboring planet, or perhaps a moon.

Thor deposited Rocket on one of the boulders and straightened up. “This is Mkweet,” he said, giving  Peter a small smile “The smallest moon that orbits Achernon.”

“Do I need an air mask?” said Peter. He couldn’t find any hardship breathing, but one could never be sure. Some toxic gases snuck up on you so fast, you would die before you even realized something was wrong.

“No,” said Thor. They were standing at the tip of a steep ledge. Beneath them lay a vast plain full of rocks and shallow ponds of pale green liquid. “Mkweet skies have a strong resemblance to Asgardian and Midgardian skies. Now that we are out of Achernon the rabbit should be awake soon.”

“Oh, dandy,” said Peter, scowling, “The last thing I need right now is to be stuck here explaining things to him. Can we just knock him out again? It would be a lot easier to deal with that furry rucksack that way.”

“I really hope for your ball’s sake that you are not talking about me,” came the drawling voice of Rocket from behind.

“Rabbit, my friend!” said Thor, cheerfully. He slapped Rocket’s back as a greeting, making him lurch violently, “We were just about to go an adventure!”

“Stop that, blondie,” said Rocket, springing away from Thor’s reach, “Where did you come from? Wait, where are we? How did we get here?” Rocket spun around, taking in his surroundings, “Where is my blaster?”

“Hey you blabbering baboon,” said Peter, “We are here to find Groot, and that’s all that matters right now.”

Rocket’s ears perked up. “What do you men find Groot? You _lost_ him? he screeched.

“Well if you hadn’t been cozying up on the prison floor, we wouldn’t have lost him.”

“That’s bullshit! You were supposed to-”

“Enough!” said Thor, his voice commanding. Peter felt a shiver run down his spine, which he promptly ignored, “We have to find Groot before the Achernons find their prison cells empty.”

“Fricking hell,” grumbled Rocket, “Stuck between the God of steroids and a man-child.”

As they trudged down a path to the plains below, Thor asked Peter in a low voice, “Who are ‘Steroids’?”

*

The pod was buried in a fifty feet wide crater. Peter felt his heart lighten considerably when Thor pointed it out to him. Thor glanced down at him and offered his hand to him, wordlessly. Peter shook his head, glaring at the God. He ran, instead. Thor picked up Rocket without so much as a glance at the little fellow and fell in sync with Peter.  It must have been difficult, keeping his pace slow to match Peter’s. But if it took effort, Thor didn’t show it. They reached the spot with Rocket swearing promises of castration.

The pod had taken considerable damage. The door was broken from outside. Groot was nowhere to be seen. Peter swallowed hard, a sick feeling taking over him.

“Look here!” said Rocket sharply, pointing at the ground. There was a small dry leaf stuck to the damp green rock and there was a similar one five feet away.

And so they followed the trail and found themselves at the precipice of a dark pool, which hid its depth very well. From their earlier contact with the fluid, Peter knew that it was harmless to human skin. But looking at the surface of the pool, and seeing no ripples coming from it, Peter's heart sank again.

“Do you think he was dragged out?” offered Rocket, adding no comfort to Peter's thoughts. “What if some crazy predator thought he was a good meal and ate him? This is all your fault, you useless piece of -”

“Rabbit,” said Thor, warningly.

“Oh stop it already! What are you, his boyfriend? Why are jumping to his defense! I lost my best friend because of him, your high and mightiness, so cut me some slack, here!”

“He is not responsible for the Tree’s demise,” said Thor, plainly.

“What do you mean he’s not responsible, _of course_ he is!”

“Look,” said Thor, and Rocket and Peter looked. A shrill sound filled the air when a huge flying beast broke the surface of the water and soared into the sky.  It had a humanoid looking face, with a beak instead of a nose, but that is where its similarities to humans ended. Huge orange feathers, wings that spread seven feet on either side, a beak that looked like a polished weapon in itself and legs that were adorned with sharp talons. A single beat of its wings took it twenty feet high.

“What is it, what is it?” screamed Rocket, hiding behind Thor’s leg.  

“That my dear friend,” said Thor grinning from ear to ear, “is a Gorgon. He is a male, see the curled horns on his head? Don’t worry. They are gentle people.”

“Gentle? People? That’s neither gentle nor a people! That’s the creature that ate Groot!”

The beast made a sharp dive and accelerated in their direction.

“No,” said Peter, noticing the small brown ridge settled on the reddish-orange neck of the Gorgun.  The nearer it came, the surer Peter became. “GROOT! Thank God! You are in so much trouble, young man!”

Groot waved back in earnest, and it looked like he was laughing. “I AM GROOOOT!!!”.

The Gorgon landed with a resounding thud beside the lake. Water went flying high and drenched Peter and Rocket completely. The bird-like beast helped Groot down and stood on its legs to great the party.

 _You are the Guardians._ Peter heard a voice in his ear, but it did not feel like it was coming from the Gorgon. Rather it felt like his own mind had produced the sound. Gorgons were telepathic. _Thank you, brave creatures, with no wings. I was afraid I had had the last of my flights. This land bound creature, who calls himself Groot told me of your arrival to save me from certain peril. I thank your kind chests from the bottom of my feathers_.

Yeah, that didn't sound right, thought Peter. He slammed his translator implant just to be sure. Groot came running to him and held him in a hug. He was almost as tall as he was. “I am Groot,” he said.

“No Groot, apology not accepted.”

“I am Groot!”

“Of course, it’s your fault we got separated. You should have stuck to my side. Or Rocket’s. You do not run off on your own. You hear me. You do not.”

Thor placed a hand on Peter’s arm. Peter gave him a nettled look but looked up to where Thor was pointing. They all looked up. The Milano was heading towards them. But it was heading a little faster than it should if it meant to land and pick them up. Soon enough, they understood why.

Milano was being chased by a dozen Achernonian ships.

 _Quick creatures,_ said the bird-beast, _climb on to my back. We have to defend ourselves from these nasty being._

While Peter would have thought twice about climbing onto a giant bird with no helmet, no harness and no way of controlling it. But he was much relieved by its offer for a ride. Better the Gorgon, than Thor.

Thor cast the Gorgon a thinly hidden glare, which amused Peter for some reason. Grabbing on to the bird’s feathers, which were much firmer than they looked, Peter hauled himself. Groot sat right behind him. Rocket who chose life over dignity climbed Thor’s back.

*

Adrenaline pumped through Peter’s veins as he fired a round with his trusty rifle cannon. The speakers were blasting Come and Get Your Love, ironically. Gamora laughed merrily beside him,  taking down a bunch of Achernonians ships at a time. It was good to be back on the captain seat with all his crew safe on board. Well most of the crew, anyway.

When the Goron beast dropped Peter off on   _Milano_ , they realized that they couldn’t fit the beast inside her. So Goron had to get on board the Asgardian vessel trailing behind them. Groot stubbornly refused to part with his new friend, clung to the bird and disappeared with him. Rocket was already stuck with Thor.

More Achernonians ships cropped up when they shot down one and full out annihilation was not the plan, what with the peace treaty and all, so they retracted.

Gamora set the course to Asgard, and Peter hit the thrusters to make the jump.

 


	2. Chapter 2

New Asgard was everything that Thor had boasted it of being. Everywhere they saw tall structures of gold shimmering in the dimming light. There were people dressed in exquisite silks and jewels. Lavish fountains adorning huge statues of the royal family and others they couldn’t recognize were splattered around the city. There was an open court surrounded by huge pillars and posts that ran to the sky. A peculiar, but grand accumulation of golden tubular structure made up the main royal palace. For a palace that was badly damaged and needed restoration, it was was pretty intact.

Rocket, the Gorgon _Verek_ , and Groot had joined them when the _Milano_ had landed. The king of Asgard and his brother had left ahead. Peter thought that it was incredibly rude of them. Instead, two tall Asgardian knights, escorted them to the palace. They had been invited to stay at the palace as royal guests.

“Why look at these people!” exclaimed Rocket with glee looking at the Asgardian citizen who were watching the group with curiosity as they passed by, “Flaunting their wealth like they have no care! It will not be my fault if they make it too easy for me.” Lucky for them the Asgardian citizens didn’t seem like they were well versed with the Ravager dialect Rocket was currently yapping in.

“Why are we here again?,” said Peter, leaning to his side so only Gamora would hear him. He found that he wasn't too keen about being there. Asgard looked and felt like a paradise, and the people in it angels. He felt more of a misfit than he was.

“Because we need to make sure that we haven't started a war by breaking out of the Achernonian prison,” said Gamora, giving him a pointed look.

“And we should care because?” said Peter, scowling.

“Because we the Guardians of the Galaxy,” said Gamora, tightly.

“No, not _this_ Galaxy,” said Peter, dancing away from Gamora’s reach when she tried to hit him. Peter was kidding, of course. He just wanted to see Gamora smile. Though they hadn't hooked up in a while, he found that he still cared about her a lot.  He was happy to see her safe and by his side again.

“We also need to make sure this guy,” said Peter, pointing a thumb at Verek, “gets by okay.”

Peter had forgotten that the beast was telepathic. _You are full of kindness, Lord of astronomical object,_ came the rumbling voice in his head.

Peter had nothing to say to that.

*

They were shown to their quarters. Even though Peter vehemently wanted to be disappointed, the moment the doors to his room were opened his jaw fell to the floor. The room could have fit his entire ship; there was a huge four poster bed covered with what looked like rich red velvet spread; the ceilings had paintings of _Valahala_ and there was a huge chandelier than hung in the middle of the room, intricate details of which was lost on him. On the other end of the room, a door lead to a balcony, from where Peter could see a million stars of different colors against the stretch of the night sky. He had been given the _princess_ ’s room _,_ wanting to be miffed. But when he put on his earphone and threw himself over the yielding cushions of the warm bed, he found that he really couldn’t.

They had to await the King’s summons. According to Gamora, even if Thor was a fellow Avenger and a friend from work, once he was in Asgard, he was king and that meant there would be protocols. Peter thought that was a load of bullshit. He wasn’t a man of patience, and having to wait on someone was not something he was good at. But he found that the warm food that had been put in his belly by the overly hospitable Aesirs made lulled him to a dreamless sleep.

He woke up to lights dancing on his face caused by reflection from chandelier above. There was no music coming through his earbuds. One side of it had fallen off. When his half awake mind tried to look for the other side by pulling on the wire, he found it attached to a soundly sleeping Gamora’s ear. Peter smiled. This wasn't an unusual occurrence.

Things between them had ended when Gamora had come back from the dead, changed. The reason she had given him when she broken up with him was simple: ' _I’m not the one, Peter.’_ Peter had been confused, angry and in denial. His insecure heart had anguished and felt betrayed. He had slept around a lot, had gotten into drunken fights with creatures he had never met before  and gotten himself into trouble that had even Rocket worried. But things had turned around and all though sometimes he still pondered what Gamora had meant when she said that she wasn't the one with such confidence, he found that he was okay. He was okay with Gamora not being the love of his life.

Gamora stirred beside him stirred. Sensing him beside her, she smiled without opening her eyes. “How long have you been staring at me?” she said.

“Enough to notice that you still drool in your sleep,” said Peter.

Gamora frowned and glared at Peter. “I _do not_ drool, Peter Quill.”

Peter laughed and sprang out from the bed when Gamora tried to knee him.

They got cleaned up, Peter not really minding sharing a room with Gamora. He was used to sharing much closer space with all of his crewmates. But it did make him wonder why she was staying by his side longer than was usual for her. They sat sipping a sweet herbal sherbet that passed for coffee around here. The view from balcony were they sat was good: the city looked beautiful in pale morning light. Peter was starting to admire Asgard and feel comfortable against his better judgement. The Asgardians were just too nice. For a class of warrior race that was known to annihilate the most powerful of monsters with bare hands, they were extremely welcoming of their allies.

“It is quite remarkable,” said Gamora, contemplatively.

“What is?”

“That Thor rebuilt this entire realm with nothing but the force of his will.”

“Big deal,” said Peter, scoffing. He had heard about that story. He likened it to a myth. Like the one time he held a Rivkwasky gem in his hand, told everybody he knew that he owned one and they believed him. That's how myths were born.

“They say he spent so much energy creating his world again,” continued Gamora, looking at the picturesque scenery before  them, “that he fell into a comatose for a full season. They call it the _Thorsleep._ He couldn't wake up till his life force was replenished.”

Peter hadn't heard about that part. To imagine that Thor had been in such a vulnerable state felt like a foreign idea that he couldn't wrap his head around. Thor being weakened did not please him as it should have.

“Loki must have taken over throne,” said Peter, guessing the natural of course of how things would have occurred. “If the seat was empty, he would have taken it.”

Gamora cast him a strange look. “Loki safeguarded the throne while Thor slept.”

“Yeah, and Loki is the child of cherubs and puppy dogs,” said Peter, making a face, “I don't think we are talking about the same guy here.”

“When it comes to Thor, Loki is different,” said Gamora.

There was something piquantly wrong with what Gamora had just said. Peter felt an emotion well up in him that felt similar to when he had accidentally drunk battery acid and it wasn't the cocktail kind.

“How do you know so much about them anyway?” said Peter, a little suspicious.

Gamora huffed. “It's not exactly a secret, Peter. People talk.”

Peter scowled and said nothing. They sat in a companionable silence, whilst Peter’s mind unnecessarily wandered towards a certain God. Peter and Thor had spent a great deal of time at the immediate aftermath of the war against Thanos. A great deal of time that Peter had spent arguing, fighting and riling up the God, throughout which Thor had persisted. He had learnt more about the God than he had intended to then, but apparently he hadn’t learnt enough.

They were near finishing their cups when there was a knock on the chamber’s door, if you can call almost dismantling the said door off its hinges a knock.

Picking up his blasters off from the bedside table, and pointing it at door, Peter said, “Who is it?”

“It's me,” came a voice Peter only knew too well. The door was thrown open and there stood the tormentor of his thoughts, beaming at him with delight that reached his blue eyes. Thor was wearing his sleeveless leather armor as was his habit, but the cape was missing. Thor tried to step inside the room, and said, “Your comforts have been looked after well, I hope.”

“Yes, yes, they have been,” said Peter blocking Thor’s way, which made the God frown.

“May I come in?” asked Thor, a little confused tone to his voice.

“You may not,” said Peter, jutting his chin forward. There was something very unsettling about allowing this being into his bedroom, even if it were a temporary one. It made Peter feel vulnerable in a way he did not understand. Gamora who had been listening so far, coughed pointedly.

Thor’s eyes went to the direction where the sound came from, and Peter watched as something shifted in the God. His entire body including his eyes seemed to have turned into steel - _Asgardian_ steel.

“Gamora,” said Thor with an affectation of politeness.

“Thor,” said Gamora, smiling. Then to Peter, “Stop being a child Peter. Let him in.”

“I’m not a _child_!” Peter scowled fiercely, but he let the God in. Thor’s eyes roamed around the chamber, stopping at the unmade bed with obvious dips on its either side, clothes that were thrown haphazardly on the floor and the used tea cups on the table near the balcony. In the few seconds after he entered the room, his demeanor had dipped drastically.  

“It's not what you think,” said Gamora, her eyes steady on Thor.

“What is not what he thinks?” said Peter, a little irritated that there was something going on that Gamora and Thor understood, but he didn't.

Thor didn't give a reply. “I would like to talk to you,” said he instead, moving very close to Peter, “Alone.” Those blue eyes were unreadable. It made Peter skittish.

“I will see you later, Peter,” said Gamora immediately.

“Stay right where you are, Gamora,” said Peter, without looking away from Thor, “Whatever you have to say can be said in front of Gamora.” He watched in wonder as his words caused lightning to strike in those blue eyes. As he stood there, facing the God, their faces only a inch and half from each other, Peter consciously admitted to himself, that Thor scared him a little.

Then, as if a spell were broken, Thor turned around and stomped off without a word.

Peter’s insides felt like jelly, but he forced a laugh out. “Serves the baboon right. Bossing around people like that and showing off -”

“You stupid man!” screamed Gamora.

Peter scrunched up his face. “Okay, what is your deal? First you call me child, now you are calling me stupid. For your information,  I just defended your ass from The Kurgan. It takes a lot of courage to do that.”

Gamora took a dramatic breathe as if to calm herself down. She then walked to Peter, took in hands in hers and said, “For someone who boasts of having been with twenty three different species, Peter Quill, you are very blind when it comes to picking up on this someone's attraction to you.”

Peter was floored _. “What_?”

“Can't you see? He is smitten with you!”

*

When the sun was up at its peak, a servant came to their door and read a formal summons from a parchment. Peter rolled his eyes at the formality, but kept quiet. There was a lot going on in his mind, but it was mostly just one question that repeatedly bombarded his - _why?_ Not that he wasn’t the most eligible bachelor of this side of the quadrant, which he was. But Thor was, well - he was _Thor_ , an undefeatable foe, a blindly generous friend, a compassionate ruler, also the man who happened to have the prowess of an incubus. For the record, this was _not_ what he thought of Thor, it was just an objective observation. He also refused to acknowledge the mirriad of feelings that this new piece of information had evoked in him.

They were led to a long well lit chamber, with pillars that ran a mile above on both sides. At the end of the room was the throne, with hawk like creatures for its armrest.  It was a magnificent piece of gold work, but not a comfortable chair. The throne was empty. They passed by the throne and to the side a door opened up to a smaller room. On all side there were books that had seemed to have seen many millennia, and in the center was a grand table of oak. Several books, parchments and rolled maps lay haphazardly on it.  

The beast Verek who was perched on a golden stool greeted them with a lift of his wings. Groot was beside him. Shortly they were joined by Rocket, Drax and Mantis.

“So what's the fuss all about?” drawled Rocket. “Is there gonna be a fight or something? That wouldn't be too bad y’know?  Those purple skinnies weren't all that frightening anyway. And if we can have a small part, say a fifth of the Asgardian army, they would pretty much be screwed.”

 _An army is not required_ came a booming was in their ears. Peter glanced at Verek. _The king of this beautiful land alone is enough to take out the entire race of Achernonians._

 _“_ Yeah, I don't know about that,” said Peter, quick to stop that idea, “the last time I checked, he didn't seem too keen on genocide. Nor should _we_ be.”

“It's not genocide if it's just a bunch of sadistic uglies,” said Rocket, as a matter of fact.

“They weren't sadistic, or ugly,” said Drax. “They bowed down to me, sang me praises and offered me wine and gifts. They were nice.”

“Only because they thought you were their legendary war chief back from the dead,” said Rocket, snidely.

This was news to Peter. “Really? Damn, I knew they were a bunch of racist dicks.”

At that moment, the door to the room was thrown open, and an Asgardian they didn’t recognize announced the arrival of the King. But it was Loki who appeared first, his arm casually wrapped over his’s brother who was laughing boisterously at something Loki had just said. Thor stumbled in and the room was engulfed in an overbearing smell of alcohol. A closer inspection made it obvious that Thor hadn’t been up to anything courtly nor proper before coming here. His blond mane was wet and tousled, his lips were swollen and there were obvious marks on his neck. It was like the God wasn’t even trying to keep it subtle.

Peter hadn’t really believed Gamora when she had told him that Thor might be interested in him. But the emotions that welled up in him right then could not be called as anything other than disappointment, which made him realize that despite his best efforts, he wanted Thor to like him. To notice him. He was humiliated at once. Peter’s face broke out into a scowl and he turned away, aiming his glare at the fading titles of the books that were decorating the side wall. Gamora shuffled a little closer to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. He looked up. She was shaking her head slowly, with serious eyes, as if she were trying convey something to him. But whatever it was it didn’t get through to him.

“Guardians,” said Thor, his voice booming.

“It’s good to see you again, Thor,” said Drax.

“And I you, friend,” said Thor.

A silence filled the room, then - the kind where there is no sound heard but the air becomes denser for it. Gamora placed a hand at his elbow and got him to turn around. Peter turned and found Thor looking at him, unabashedly. Peter realized with a start that yes, he _desired_ this man - not just for how he looked, all though there was nothing not pleasing about the way he looked, with his raw piercing eyes, flushed high cheeks, wet wild hair flung carelessly about his shoulder, his intimidating bulk of a body. No, it was the man he was underneath all that Peter desired. It was just his bad luck that Thor also happened to be a manwhore.

“Okay, can someone explain to me what the hell is going on?” That was Rocket, standing in the middle of the room and looking extremely confused.

“I’ll tell you what it is,” said Mantis, sounding a little too excited. Peter shot her a look and silenced her. He did not want the whole world to know what he himself had only a moment before realized. “I’ll tell you later,” she added urgently.

Loki who was still stuck to his brother’s side clapped his hands together, and said, “So, shall we get to it then?” The God of mischief waved his hand and bulky chairs appeared around the table. The books that had been carelessly strewn on the desk picked itself up and went flying back to its place on the shelves.

Rocket whistled and everybody else looked impressed. Peter rolled his eyes, and sat down in the chair that was furthest away from Thor. It was Loki who spoke again.

“Achernonians are preparing for war as we speak. Something we had wanted to avoid, has now come to pass. Neither Asgard, nor any other army in this realm is ready for another war.”

_The purple creatures cultivate an evil practice that must be eradicated without hesitation._

“That is true Gorgon,” said Loki sneering, “But war is not an option. Innocent lives cannot be lost for the crimes of their leaders.”

“Hang on a minute, _Khan,_ ” said Peter, sarcastically, “Since when do you care for the lives of innocents?”

“Since they essentially belong to _me_ ,” said Loki, lifting his eyebrows. “I think my brother already established that the Achernonians were once under Jotunheim’s rule. It is only a matter of time before I take back what is rightfully mine.”

Peter scoffed again.

 _You want to protect your subjects,_ said Verek gravely. _That is an  admirable quality indeed. But not a wise one._

Loki’s face crumpled in irritation and he was about to speak, but Thor cut in - “How so?”

_I haven't told you the story of how I came upon the world of purple men and it is time I did. My world as you know, Gorgei is a thousand five hundred and eighty three flight leaps away from here. We were a peaceful nest away from war, poverty, and famine. Our fruits were abundant and our supremo upheld our customs and culture with dignity and the flock admired her for it.  But all that changed when the Black Order swept the flocm up like a herd of worms and took them away to their cages. They ported my flock in thousands at a time to Achernon in order to enslave them and enslave them they did._

A hush fell over the room. Everybody had a feeling of how this story would end. The memories of their own loved ones dying was a recurring nightmare to most of them.

 _Before the evil vanquisher went_ about _amassing the stones_ , _he used my flock to conquer worlds and destroy them. When the supremo got to know about these events, she sent the best of her fleet to free the enslaved flock. It was all in vain when they discovered that the slaves were not bound by mere contract, but by magic. To hurt the master, was to hurt the slave. But more importantly the slaves once bound by it, could not be separated from the master’s will. So you see, we -_

Peter who had been listening so far with vague interest, felt his temper flare. He stood up abruptly and the bulky chair behind him screeched under the sudden force with which it was pushed back. “You,” he said, pointing an accusing finger at the startled god of thunder. “Tell me you did not just bind me to your whoremongering will.”

The tension in the room escalated quickly from there on. Thor stood up with such force that the chair he had sat on broke in two. two face twisted in indignation, he roared, “You dare call me that?”

“Yes I dare!” said Peter, screaming at the top of his voice and slamming his hand on the desk for good measure. Not only was Thor sleeping around with random sluts, he had also bought him like he were one of those random sluts. Thay was the perfect word for him. “I will call you that again. WHOR-”

He found that suddenly he had no voice.

“Have care how you speak to the _King_ of Asgard,” said Loki, having stood up and raised a hand in Peter's direction. “Next time it won't be just your voice that leaves you.”

Thor who had been glaring down at Peter, looking ready to strike him down with lightning, turned his ire onto Loki, at his brother's words. “I can fight my own battles brother. Release him from your sorcery at once.”

Loki rolled his eyes and flicked his wrist.

“Whoremonger!”, screeched Peter. He just could not help himself. That bastard deserved it. But before Thor could do any damaged to Peter, Rocket interrupted.

“Oh please,” said he, leering at Peter, “Pot calling kettle black”

“How can a pot call-”

“Not now, Drax.”

“I’m Groot.”

“That was _one_ time, okay,” said Peter, bitingly. He hadn’t really wanted to sleep with the half-giantess Groot had mentioned, but she had him sold on the Peruvenian Crystals, which just for your information, were worth a _lot_ . Which sort of made him a whore, he supposed. But that was in the past, and now he was soul-bound to a God, for whom he had only recently figured out he had feelings for, which _incidentally_ weren't reciprocated. It sucked. A lot.

“We can sit here and swap stories of our heroics in bed, or we can figure out what can be done about the Achernonians,” said Gamora, sharply. She caught Peter's elbow again and made him sit down. “I’m sure,” she said to him, “Thor would not have bought you off the Achernonians, if he had known magic was involved.”

Loki repaired the chair that Thor had broken with another of his flicks, and the King sat down. “You speak true, milady,” said he said, his eyes shining with hurt pride, “I'm no savage. I do not need to pay my lovers, and I have no intention of bedding him.”  

Rocket made a choking sound. Mantis covered Groot’s ears. If Peter had been the God of Thunder, Thor would have turned to dust under his glare right then.

“What he means to say is that,” said Loki, crisply, “He will do everything in his power to get you out of your bond.”

 _It is impossible,_ said Verek _, except to kill every last one of those wretched purple creatures. The magic will die with them.”_

“That would be a good idea,” said Loki, his face splitting into an eerie grin, “If the bond magic were native to the Achernonians.”

“You do not mean-?” asked Thor, quizzically.

“You know I do brother,” said Loki, still grinning.

Thor sighed and a sense of weariness fell over him. Peter bristled and said, “Well, care to explain to the rest of us just what the hell you zapped between your heads? We are not all Danny Torrance here.”

“Of course, one cannot expect your puny minds to understand what is quite obvious. That would be asking too much,” said Loki, shaking his head. “The bond magic is fueled by the mind stone.”

“Right,” said Peter, snarkily, “and it so happens that we destroyed those motherfuckers a couple years back remember?”

“The stone was destroyed,” said Thor, looking around the group with earnestness, “but its powers remain.”

“That makes absolutely zit sense.”

Loki and Thor exchanged looks. Peter hated those looks that they shared. It showed that they had a world of their own - one no one else could enter. Peter didn't have siblings, but it wasn't just simple envy he felt. He knew that now.

“Before Thanos lent me the scepter which contained the stone,” said Loki, “It was wielded by Laufey and his father and his father before him. It goes back to an ancestor who found the stone in the _Mímisbrunnr_.”

“Mimi-brr-brr? What's a Mimi-brr-brr?”, said Rocket, with a frown.

“Mímisbrunnr,” said Loki, giving Rocket and the rest of them a condescending look, “Is the great Mimir’s well of wisdom, that gives anbody who drinks from it the ability to control one's own mind and others who share the drink with him. It is one of the most ancient powers in the world. My father, Odin gave an eye to get just one drink from the well so he may never be decieved by his mind."

Everybody took in what was said for a moment. Then, it was Groot who pointed out the obvious.

“I'm Groot.”

“The infinity stones _do_ predate everything else, but contained long enough in one place, the receptacle takes on the stone’s properties. It was eons after the beginning of the world, that my ancestors found the stone. The stone had enough time to impart it's nature onto the well of Mimir by then."

It all made a sense, as long as you kept your mind _very_ open and imagination vivid. But Peter recollected standing before the Achernonian leader and sharing a sip of pale wine with Thor from the same copper cup. He had had no reason to say no to a drink when it was offered. He had gone without water that entire day.

“That makes things a lot more simpler and boring,” said Rocket, yawning, “I was really looking forward to a good dirty fight.”

 _“_ Oh there will be a fight,” said Loki with a grin, “Just not the one that is fought in the battlefield”

Rocket’s ears perked up and a grin spread across his mousy face. “How do you mean?”

“We have to win over the God of Wisdom, Mimir, to get control over his well.”

“We will just cut off the God’s head and toss it into his bloody well. Will that do?”

“You will do no such thing, Rabbit!” said Thor, sounding indignant at Rocket's plans for a God. Loki for his part looked disgusted. “Besides, mere mortals cannot kill a God.”

“Why do you think we have you around then?” piped Rocket, still grinning at the thought of bloody murder.

“My father was a student of Mimir. He has our gratitude and affection. We are not going to kill him. What Loki alluded to was, in plainer terms, a battle of _wits_.”

It was Rocket’s turn to look shocked. Then he left out a long suffering sigh and fell back onto his chair with an annoyed look.

Thor stood up and placed a his hands on the table. He looked across the table and found Peter's eyes. His demeanor was as vexed as Peter felt, but there was also a look of resignation.  “You will not have to wait long to be free of me,” he said, soberly, “and the slave trade in Achernon will be taken care of once and for all. Just the way you desired it to be, Lord of Stars. Loki,” he said, tilting his head at his brother. “and I shall go in search for Mimir. He was last seen outside of _Álfheimr_. So we will start from there. I wager it will take us a week at most.”

Of all the things Thor spoke of, only one thing stuck with Peter: Thor wanted to get rid of him. Well, Peter, wanted to get rid of him, too. He stood up and said scowling, “You are not going without me.”

“I cannot even begin to fathom what purpose you will serve against the strength or the wit of a God,” said Loki, raising his eyebrows cockily. 

“I'm gonna make sure that _you_ ,” said Peter, pointing at the brothers, “stay true to your word, so I can be rid of you and your stupid planet and haul ass from this quadrant so we have no reason to look at your ugly faces one more fucking time.”

“Peter!” said Gamora. Why was Gamora always interrupting him? He gave her a petulant look. She lowered her voice a little and said, “You are being a jerk.”

“You will stay here,” said Thor, plainly, interrupting them. 

“And how do you plan on making me do that?” said Peter, folding his hands. He would like to see Thor try. Nobody could get away with treating Peter like a child _\- especially_ not Thor.

“I just did,” said Thor, suddenly smirking. There was a look on his face that wasn't there before - almost like a childish glee.

Peter raised his eyes waiting for him to explain further. But Thor just stood there his smirk turning into a fulfledged grin. Peter frowned.

Rocket beside him suddenly barked out a laugh,  followed by a fit that shook his tiny body.

“What's so funny?” growled Peter.

“He just gave you an express command!” said Rocket, wheezing out the words between giggles.

“So?”

Mantis who was sitting on Rocket's other side, placed a hand on his shoulder. She gave him a pointed look, with her antennae bending down meaningfully. But none of that reached Rocket.

“He owns your sloppy ass. He tells you to do something, you _do_ it. Like a good little slave,” said Rocket, still laughing “Man, it's so good to be alive!”

Peter let out an animalistic growl and pounced on Rocket. Mantis shrieked, and Gamora tried and failed to hold Peter back. Drax  and Verek just looked on with confused interest. The raccoon jumped on the table and ran across it with small swift legs and settled himself behind the thunder God’s neck. He then proceeded to cackle like a maniac.

Peter pulled out his twin blasters and cocked it at the pest and the God on whom he sat “I am going to kill the _both_ of you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have my characters become a little OOC? Let me know if there are any logic inconsistencies as well. 
> 
> This story became a lot more plot driven than I had intially intended it to. I have borrowed a lot of elements from Norse mythology, invented some of my own cultures and civilizations and mixed them up. Hope it doesn't take too much away from the story. 
> 
> You should be seeing a little more Thorquill action soon.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter stirs up some trouble.

Peter aiming a weapon at their King was not taken well by the Aesir knights. They sprang to their feet and slammed Peter’s blasters down with their spears. Peter would have been insulted had he not known that Asgardian steel was one of the densest metal in the known world. Amidst his protests which had little effect on the towering guards, his hands were forcibly put behind his back and his head was pressed against the great oak desk. His Terran strength did not stand a chance against them, but Peter couldn’t help but try. He squirmed against the hold around his neck and kicked the guard in his shin with all the strength he could muster. A huge crash followed.  Not having expected an actual impact, Peter stumbled backward. He turned shakily, only to find the knights sprawled on the floor with the upper half of a broken bookshelf on top of them. 

Peter let out a surprised snort. Over them stood the looming figure of Thor, his shoulders shuddering with each breath he took. 

“You dare harm a royal guest in my presence?” said Thor, his voice a raw gravel, and Peter saw wisps of electric current crackling from his clenched fist. “Disappear,” he said, “before I decide to relieve you of your limbs.” 

Peter rolled his eyes, but his heart raced. The guards scrambled and exited the room, and a tense silence followed. Thor turned and bent down to pick up Peter's fallen blasters. There was a frown on his face when he caught Peter by his elbow and pressed the blasters in his hand. This close, he reeked even more of ale and cheap perfume from the whore he had spent the afternoon with. 

“I am going with you,” said Peter adamantly, surprising himself. He wasn't usually someone who ran in the direction of trouble without any reason. In fact, he always tried to run in its exact opposite direction. But letting Thor trust his brother, especially when it involved a magical well that enslaved minds - yeah, that was not something he was comfortable with. Loki was the God of mischief. 

“You are fragile,” said Thor, plainly, his eyes stone-like, “You will only put yourself and others in danger.” 

“Can you believe this guy?” said Peter, looking at the Guardians, exasperatedly, “I'm a fucking Avenger, dude and a Guardian of the Galaxy - no make that Galaxies. Several galaxies, in fact.” 

“You are also a mortal,” said Thor, raising one of his eyebrows in a challenge. 

“I'm half-celestial,” Peter shot back.

“That doesn't make you a God,” said Thor, putting his hands on Peter's and pushing him back forcefully. If he was trying to show how much stronger than Peter he was, it worked. The small of his back hit the table behind him and he winced in pain. “You are no match for a God. This meeting is over,” finished Thor, turning away and making his way towards the door. 

Thor's words stung Peter more than he would have liked to admit. He was never one to not have the last say, but he felt the truth resonate in Thor's words that he was rendered speechless. What could a rag-tag like him possibly be to a God other than a passing amusement? No match for a God, indeed. 

*

Gamora tried to get him alone the moment they got out of the room, but Peter evaded her with the skill of the Ravager he still was.  When dusk fell he had half a mind to keep himself shut in his over-decorated chambers, but it felt too much like admitting defeat. So when Rocket came strolling down the corridor, yapping loudly to a bored Drax, Peter grabbed his leather jacket and rushed out of the room. 

“We are going out and getting smashed,” said Peter, stopping them mid-track. 

“Do you have your daddy’s permission?” asked Rocket, grinning ear-to-ear. 

Peter aimed a kick at the ugly furball, but Drax picked him up like a sack and put him on his other side. “Friends shouldn’t fight, Peter,” said Drax, sagely. 

“Tell that to Mighty Mouse over there!” hissed Peter, attempting to grab the raccoon, but Drax stopped him and shook his head. 

“Peter is going to buy us drinks,” said Drax, looking at Rocket, “Do you want to upset the man who is sponsoring our night?”

“Hey, I didn't say I was gonna buy you assholes anything,” interjected Peter, but kept walking with them. 

*

They got into a little trouble trying to get the guards to let them out of the palace. To be precise, Peter got into a little trouble. Apparently, the news was out that he had tried to attack the King, and somebody higher up had deemed it fit to restrict his movements. Peter lost his temper, spewed out a few choice words but the Asgardian dogs did not even blink. If it wasn't for Rocket’s lose grenade, which by accident, caused an explosion Peter would have been sent back to his chambers like an admonished child. Peter was glad he had agreed to pay for the drinks. 

The city was as beautiful at night as it was in daylight, but what he had admired in awe in the morning, he now looked on with irritation. Every bit of it reminded him of its smug creator. It was too perfect, just like him - too proud and too obnoxiously extravagant. Peter found renewed vigor in getting his mind slathered with alcohol and finding a nice girl to get under. 

Asgard did not have bars, as they soon found out, it was all alehouses and they all served either ale or mead. The alehouse they had decided on was the furthest away from the castle, down a dark lane of a shady part of the city. It was a little reassuring to know that even a pompous place like New Asgard had it's gutters, especially considering the fact that the entire realm was only a little over two years old. 

The bartender behind the counter was a lady of immense size with a mean set of jaws. When Rocket lifted himself up on the stool, she shrieked and tried to beat him with a tankard on the head. Rocket pulled out his blaster and pointed it at the woman. Before things could get out of hand, Peter interrupted and informed the lady that the animal was safe. She was not quick to believe him, but the two copper rings Peter thrust in her hands convinced her of Rocket’s inability to be anything but a Monchhichi. 

In his lifetime, Peter had tasted a few hundred different origin beers, from Sarkaar to Quxomein, but none that were like Asgardian. He hated to admit it, but the Aesirs hands down won the title of 'the Gods of the Hard Stuff’. But as strong as it was, it was also very tasteless. It burnt his throat, and his entire nasal passage was on fire with its acrid taste. They were served something called pottage, to soothe the sting of alcohol in the belly. Peter took one look at it and refused to put it in his mouth.

It took him about a quarter of a tankard to start giggling and another quarter to pull a passing by red-haired girl into his lap. She slapped him on the face. It stung like a motherfucker - Aesir strength and all that - but Peter took it like a man and only yowled a little. Rocket guffawed. Drax for his part shook his head, looking embarrassed. Peter glared at them but otherwise remained undeterred from his goals for the night. Rocket and Drax wanted to gamble. He had to give them four coppers each to get rid of them.

By his third fill, Peter was blissfully tipsy. He had a hand way high up a tall brunette’s thighs and his tongue down her throat. As it were she also had an ample ‘bosom’, spilling precariously out of her tight corset and his fingers itched to touch her. She wasn't a lady for sure - definitely, nothing compared to the Asgardian King’s harem he bet, but she smelled clean and had a kind smile that reached her eyes, and Peter was happy she put it on especially for him.

“Would it please the kind mister to go someplace away from prying eyes?” said the woman, whispering close to his ears as they came up for air. 

“Sssscore!” exclaimed Peter, to which the woman looked at him with much confusion. Thank the never-ending space for intergalactic linguistic differences and slurred speech. That little slip would have cost him the last twenty minutes’ efforts. He gave her a lopsided smile and said, “M’all yoursss, darrrhling” 

She slid off him, took his hand and glided through the crowd with an ease that revealed that her familiarity with guiding drunk, lust-bidden men to dark rooms. Peter smiled at the rhythmic swaying of her hips and the knowledge that he was going to be in safe, experienced hands.

The woman took him through a door that too the side of the serving counter - a small, easily ignorable door half-hidden by some stacked crates. The tunnel she took him through was damp and dark, illuminated only by the odd wall torch. The lady grabbed one and pulled him along. The air grew heavy with every step they took, and soon there were no torches except the one the woman carried. Had Peter been sober, he would have found it strange how the low ceilinged, small bar he had entered could have a possibly fit a passage that took them fifteen minutes to get across. But the strong hand around his lower back and the heat of the body leaning against him kept him in a suspended in a state of sweet anticipation. 

“There yet, darling?” She turned to him and pecked him on the cheek. “Almost there, mister,” she said. 

“I dun wannabe sober,” he told her. He was worried all the walk was going to clear his head. “More booze?” The woman didn't answer, instead, she pushed a heavy wrought iron door. Peter leaned in to admire the intricate pattern on the door - it was very pretty - when a sudden darkness enveloped them. Caught surprised and not having full reign over his body, Peter stumbled. Because he was unable to see nor find purchase against any solid object - for the woman had disappeared too, he fell forward twisting his hand under his own weight. 

He howled in pain - the fog in his head cleared back a little. “Darling, can we have that light back? Wanna see your face. You gotta beautiful face. Don't  be shy now.”

“More beautiful than this face?” came an amused voice but it didn't belong to Peter's date. He jerked in surprise and then swiveled around. Oh, he knew that voice. He had been running from that very voice all evening. 

“Fuuuck you, Thor,” said Peter, and sure enough there he was, standing in an eerie glow of amidst the stark darkness that surrounded them. It was strange, for although there was light, it did not shine on anything except on the Thunder God’s form. “Fucking creep! Did you follow me?” said Peter, although his eyes lingered too much on the object of his apparent derision. He couldn’t be blamed, though. Thor wore his usual leather breeches, but somehow they seemed to be made of thinner material, more shimmery - highlighting his every dip and angle. On his shoulders hung a loose, unbuttoned shirt that let Peter see everything from his neck to his right nipple to the navel to thick golden curls that spilled out of the top of his breeches. Peter found his throat becoming dry and he licked his lips.  

When Peter attempted to take a step forward, Thor disappeared. Like a bad hologram image that lost its signal, he sizzled and went out of existence. Darkness once more engulfed Peter. “Creepy immoral - immortal! You cocky, big-headed, perverted bastard! Run back to your stupid harem! That's right, coward, I'm gonna get laid tonight. The lady here? She likes me. Get it? She's mine! Fancy that, huh? Not everybody wants your sorry ass -”

“Stop your drunken rambling,” came another voice. 

Peter stopped not because he felt like he had to listen, but because it wasn’t Thor’s voice anymore. He felt the blood on his face drain as he recognized the voice. To Peter’s left now, stood his father.  

It took Peter longer than it should have to realize that somebody was messing with his head and that the figure standing before him wasn’t actually his late father. To his defense, Peter was drunk. So he couldn't be faulted when he pulled out his blasters and shot twice. The sparks flew and met darkness. The image of his father was gone. 

Peter had to clear his mind. He hit his forehead with the base of his palm, blinked fast and scrunched his eyes. He stumbled, feeling disoriented. It occurred to him that he probably wasn't going to get laid that night. 

Peter sighed and activated his helmet, something he should have done much earlier. Cool, recycled air came through the filters. He took it in hungrily and felt the buzz in his head lower. He popped the thermal vision on his helmet and gauged his surroundings. It was a hexagonal room, not very huge. There was something in the middle, circular in shape, constantly shifting and much cooler than the rest of the place. Probably, a pool. There was no human shaped thermal form. It was almost as if he had been hallucinating. 

Then it occurred to him. 

“Is that you Loki?” It had to be him. Peter cocked his head and listened for the tell-tale sound of a cape swishing, or jewels jingling. “You greasy, conniving Elphie. I know it's you. Stop messing around with my head, you little prick.” 

“Loki wouldn't be pleased to hear such words against his person,” came yet another voice. This one he did not recognize. Peter aimed his blasters in the direction of the sound and he was met with the illuminated image of an elderly man. Not elderly - ancient. The man looked like he was a breath away from being dead and Peter was in a mood to help him along.  

“I have a twitchy finger,” Peter said through gritted teeth, “and I'm not sure if I got my head straight but I gotta tell you I have a really good aim. Muscle memory and all that. Which means - you move, I shoot.” 

The man let out a raspy, high pitched sound. Only the expression on his face clarified that it was the sound of his laugh. “You need something far more superior than Clarice and Terry to shoot me, my dear boy.” 

To say Peter was stunned would be an understatement. Only a handful knew about the names he had given his blasters.  “How did you - nevermind answering that, you probably read my mind,” said Peter, scowling and stepping closer. This time the apparition remained. Maybe, the old geezer - whoever he was - was running out of tricks. “You are not Loki then. Loki can do a lot of mumbo-jumbo, but reading minds is not one of them. And last I checked, the Gorgei cannot shapeshift, which begs the question who the fuck are you and why the fuck did you just spoil my date?” 

“You are a smart one, aren't you?” said the old man, his eyes crinkling like crumpled paper as he smiled. Peter checked through to his thermal vision and there was still no heat to indicate that the being before him was human. “I know your eyes can see through me with that funny mask of yours. I know your mind is whirling to deduce my identity, and yet, you fear you already know who I am.” 

“You are not real,” said Peter, ignoring his rising ire at having his mind read so openly. “You are not shifting shapes. You are making me see what I want to see. You are in my head.” Peter’s eyes shifted to the swirling cool circle, which was not visible to his naked eyes in the darkness that surrounded him - a pool or more precisely, a well. What are the odds? “You are Mimir.”

“You say I'm not real?” 

“You know what I mean,” snapped Peter, but lowered his gun. It did feel good to have someone take him seriously for a change, and anyway, how evil could the God of Wisdom be? “The well is more real than you are. You are just a projection.” But how could the well be in Asgard? Thor would know. Hadn’t he basically built the place up from scratch? Or was the codger a recent camper?

The old man confirmed Peter’s thoughts, “Do you really believe that I, the God of Wisdom, would lack knowledge of ways to camouflage myself?”

That was a trick question, thought Peter. If he had all the wisdom in the universe, what were his boundaries? Did he also know of the future the way the Doctor did? Did he know how to fly? Did he also see everything like Heimdall? That felt a little unfair. That almost sounded like being The God, and in Peter’s experience, people who claimed to be that were just megalomaniac. 

“Distrust and doubt pervade your mind, Peter. Why do you exhaust yourself with such thoughts?” said the man, smiling ever so gently. 

Peter twisted his neck and gave the God sharp look through narrowed eyes, “You are not exactly winning points by shapeshifting into people I don't particularly like. And what’s with all the glow-in-the-dark effect. Besides, do you even realize what you look like now? Like a freaking Vampyre - and I mean Vampyre with a “Y”, as in Nosferatu the Vampyre - not the one I found Shurii ogling at. It's creepy. Not that the glittery one wasn't creepy. But you are creepy and old. Which is worse. So yeah, I'm not comfortable. If you can piss off and let me get back to my date, that would be fantastic.” 

The God was struggling to keep his face pleasant and docile after his little tirade. “Your tongue belies your wisdom, and so I shall forgive it.” The old man swung his hand in an elaborate manner and suddenly the room was as it should have been. Light flooded the room from wall torches on all eight sides and on the middle was the well. Peter couldn't help but peer inside it and try to gauge its depth, but he couldn’t see was further than a foot. There was no telling how deep the pool was. 

“Do be careful,” came the gnarly voice closer to Peter's than it should have been, rattling him, “I came here to help you. Not to watch you fall to your demise.”  

“You might actually achieve it if you stopped behaving like a frigging jack-in-the-box,” said Peter, putting some distance between him and the well. He crossed his arms and said, “So what's this business about helping me? Why would you help and why should I believe you?” 

The God smiled but did not further dally in answering him. “I’m going to help you absolve your unfortunate ties with the God of Thunder. You do wish to get rid of it, don’t you?” he asked, tauntingly.

Peter for his part raised his eyebrows, disbelievingly. “Why?” Why help me?

“Because the royal brothers will seek me out to accomplish the same. They will succeed, but it doesn’t bode well for the realms.” 

“Right,” said Peter, smiling wryly, “You mean you will get your ass handed to you. I believe you now, you are the God of wisdom. You do perceive things very clearly.”

“What a vexing creature you are,” said Mimir, a tired line appearing on his forehead. “You insult faster than you breathe.” When Peter simply beamed at that, as if given a compliment, he shook his head and spoke again, “Destroying the ancient well will only bring about a manner of chaos, that will cost the realms more than it will benefit anybody. You may not be aware of this, but the majority of the creatures that were subjugated by its improper use were vile and despicable, to begin with - murderers, rapists, and madmen. Giving them freedom all at once, after years of subjugation and suppressed hatred, without proper care or planning - can’t you see the implications of what that will bring about?”

Peter frowned. That sounded almost convincing. Except, “You could have explained this directly to Thor. He's a very reasonable guy - when it doesn't involve his lower anatomy, that is. Or his brother. Dude has this irrational, almost masochistic relationship with him. Back to the point though, why all this cloak-and-dagger spectacle?”

“Because there's something else Thor is a lot more irrational about,” said Mimir with a somber voice. “His pride. He behaves much like a child when his pride is wounded. It has and always be his undoing and you have provoked it.”  

To Peter, what the God said rang true. But it got him thinking, whether it really only hurt pride that had made Thor swear to get rid of Peter? Then he remembered the state in which the blond God had entered the meeting room. A fresh surge of irritation filled him, his throat felt heavy and his eyes prickled. “If he goes and gets himself in a mess because he is too stupid to see what is the right thing to do, then he deserves it.” 

“Maybe,” said Mimir, with a small quirk of his lips that reminded Peter of Loki. Maybe, they were related, he thought. Not a comforting thought. “But the realms don't deserve it. That's why it's best if we, who have their eyes open and are willing to listen to reason, need to take care of it.” 

“By doing what exactly?” 

“By accomplishing the very thing that Thor is questing after.” 

Peter turned away because he didn't feel like showing the old man the effect it had on him. But it was a moot thing to do. What was wrong with him? Didn't he want the exact same thing? To get rid of that blond giant? Heid. He didn't. He did. 

“What do you need me to do?” 

Mimir walked to him and took both Peter's hands in his. His felt as dry and wrinkly as it looked. If Peter weren't stunned by the sudden touch, he would have rudely pulled back his hands. “Nothing except give me passage through your mind and untangle the mess you both have created.” 

Peter did snap his hands back to himself. “Not happening,” he said, without a beat. 

“There is nothing to fear or distrust,” said Mimir, softly, “for I cannot remove that which is not willingly given.” 

“No really. I'm not interested.” Peter's defenses were fully up again. Like hell, he was going to let some weird alien God get inside his head and perform some dubious hocus-pocus.

“You are smarter than this Peter,” said Mimir, disappointment clear in his voice.  “I'm not the trickster. I'm one of the original Aesir. We live with honor and serve to protect the nine realms. You should know then that I cannot bring you harm.” 

Peter paused. He didn't think it was a good idea but felt pressed to hear out the entire deal. “So I let you in my head and you will dissolve the bond?”

“I will, yes,” said Mimir, peering down at him through his ancient eyes. Then his face twitched as if he were holding back from saying something. 

“I definitely sense a 'but’. There has to be one. What is it? Lose two inches of my height? Crippled for life? Forget how to do a Running Man?” 

A smile escaped those old lips. “No. Nothing that severe. But you will lose all memories of Thor Odinson. You will never be able to remember him.” 

Nowhere near what Peter had expected. “That's not excessive at all,” he grunted, sarcasm plain in his voice, but his mind was whirring with the implications of such an action. He wouldn't require alcohol. He wouldn't even need to feel grumpy, and spiteful. He wouldn’t have to be hurt. If Mimir delivered as he promised, it would be a perfect solution to his current problems. And, what the hell did he care anyway? So what if he lost memories of Thor? He didn't care. 

“Are you sure there's nothing else?” asked Peter, unable to not consider the offer seriously. “Will it hurt?” 

“Not if you don't resist,” said Mimir, raising a hand to Peter's temple. 

Peter took an involuntary step back, but the God followed him fluidly. Peter saw the grey in Mimir's eyes turn murky and become unfocused. His own eyelids dropped heavy with a sudden tiredness and a rush of colors raced in front of his closed eyes. It felt like an outside force was instigating the movement of those images - moving too fast to be anything recognizable. Peter knew what it was though, and it already filled him with an undeniable sense of loss. 

Too late now, he thought. No going back. Not like he would actually remember what he had lost.

Then, a voice of pure rage rang through Peter's mind and like a swift hand had swept away the debris, the rushing colors became a simple black. The voice had uttered three words, Peter's noted after the fact: 

“ _ TO ME! NOW! _ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just one word: Sorry! For taking so long, for not writing any actual Thorquill moments. But these had to be written. Because of the plot. Or something like that. I don't even know anymore. 
> 
> Please don't send me any howlers. Or dead rats.

**Author's Note:**

> If there are any inconsistencies in logic or plot or just about any mistake, please feel free to point them out. This work still largely requires editing.


End file.
